I'm parked on Nebraska ave
Irony of ironies.
Magic hour: The sun is still out but the streetlights are on
The sky is blue.
Maxine wants to come and go unnoticed
Mother of darkness.
The church, a massive concrete structure with two stained glass windows
on either side of the heavy wooden doors
Sandwiched between a luncheonette on one side and an
antique shop on the other.
I wait on Max.
Almost dark, she comes into view
She's wearing a short black skirt, black stockings, a zebra print blouse, and
sunglasses
Dressed to impress not repent.
Carries a big black bag
Contents of her bag: money, in envelopes, a weapon, probably a gun,
makeup, a cell phone, combs and brushes, an address book
Tools of her trade.
She ran up the five steps to the front door like a woman half her age.
Her legs, still muscular and attractive
Still a babe, even at 73.
I wonder if the priest thought so.
Father Timothy Bernard.
Father Tim opened the front door
Had he anticipated her arrival?
She turned and scanned the street, checking for anyone following her
I slid down in my seat
She stepped into the church
I saw the door close
Confession.
I stepped into a bar across the street
Happy hour
I claimed an empty bar stool near an exit that led into an alley
I ordered a drink, whiskey
I wonder if Father Bernard smells alcohol on Maxine's breath
A couple of stools over a guy shouts to a friend, "she's telling on you dude."
"She's telling on you," he shouts a second time
A sinking feeling creeps into my gut
"I get the message, man"
"Now you got the message what are you going to do?"
I got the message but had no idea what to do?
About the Creator
David Parham
Writer, Filmmaker, Digital artist.
The ever Changing Complexities of Life, Fear, Mysteries and Capturing that which may not be there Tomorrow.
Complex, Change, Fear, Mystery, Tomorrow & Capture. Six reasons I write.
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